


i don't belong (to anyone else)

by sepiacigarettes



Series: twitter threads [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dom Keith (Voltron), Dom/sub Undertones, Friends to Lovers, I just wanna call it thigh fucking man, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Season/Series 07, Season 8 whomst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-23 09:47:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23009566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sepiacigarettes/pseuds/sepiacigarettes
Summary: Keith sips his can, and then looks at him sideways. “Unless you’re into that.”It startles a laugh out of Shiro because of how close it is to the truth. “Look, maybe I am, you don't know.”Keith snickers. “No, I don’t, do I?” And he’s still joking, but Shiro kind of wants him to know now.“All you have to do is ask.”Keith looks at him curiously. “I bet you are into it,” he says. “Bet you look real good on your knees.”At a post-war paladin barbeque, Keith gets vocal about what he wants (Shiro, on his knees) and Shiro is absolutely here for it
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Series: twitter threads [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1653637
Comments: 35
Kudos: 198





	i don't belong (to anyone else)

**Author's Note:**

> My dearest [Ribbit](https://twitter.com/ribbitsplace) drew me the most wonderful [art](https://twitter.com/ribbitsplace/status/1234510470264098816?s=20) for this [thread](https://twitter.com/sepiacigarettes/status/1234436184949977089?s=20) 😭💘
> 
> Special shout out to [Allie](https://twitter.com/spiftynifty), without whom I would never have put this (or any of the forthcoming threads) up on ao3 💛

> Oh, my blood, once was my own
> 
> But in one touch you made it yours
> 
> What have you done?
> 
> 'Cause I could touch a hundred thousand souls
> 
> But none of them would ever feel like home
> 
> And no matter how far and wide I roam
> 
> You're the only one that I'll ever know
> 
> I don't belong to anyone else
> 
> — PVRIS, Anyone Else

— S —

After the war, on the first anniversary of Earth’s liberation from Sendak, Hunk invites everyone around to his place for a backyard barbeque. It’s been months since they’ve all been in the same space or planet; Allura spends her time travelling between New Altea and its surrounding sector with Lance, and Keith is in New Daibazaal with his mother and the Blades. Shiro barely sees Pidge or Hunk because of how busy he is.

“You’re all coming,” Hunk says. “No buts.”

Shiro finds it odd swapping his Garrison uniform for a button up and jeans, but it passes when he arrives at Hunk’s and sees the rest of them are even more casual. Romelle hugs him first, followed closely by the others.

They all crow at him for showing up.

“Thought you’d raincheck,” Lance admits.

“Yeah,” Pidge backs him up. “Don’t you have _paperwork?”_

“Let the guy breathe,” Hunk scolds.

“Yes,” Allura says. “Let him.” And she steps closer to hug him tightly, an embrace that Shiro gladly steps into. Apart from Keith, Allura is one who he most often talks to these days. They both understand the burden of leadership. “It’s so good to see you.”

Keith is the last to arrive, when Lance and Pidge are squabbling over lighting the fire because Hunk wants coals instead of an electric range. He looks like a fucking dream in an oversized crewneck, and his legs are a mile long.

The others crowd him first, and then Keith says, “Shiro,” and strides over to pull him into a hug.

“Hey, you,” Shiro says, burying his nose in Keith’s shoulder. He shouldn’t be holding as tight as he is.

“Missed you,” Keith says, always blunt and earnest.

“Missed you too.”

Shiro wants to stay there forever, but Hunk asks for Keith’s help with the coals, and Allura asks Shiro about his work that day, so they separate.

Later when the day ends, Shiro is thinking of all the sunsets he’s been lucky enough to spend with Keith; normally he would be content to admire from afar, to let the conversations and interactions ebb and flow with one another on their own. But maybe it’s a combo of nostalgia about the sunset, and the beer Lance pressed into his hand the moment he stepped outside, and the way Keith smiles as he talks, because Shiro wants to be selfish tonight.

He hasn't seen Keith in so long, both of them pulled apart from each other by their duties, and Shiro misses him. He misses the way the corner of Keith's eyes crease when he laughs, he misses the warmth of him, he misses the soft way Keith asks how his day has been.

He misses his best friend.

Keith is snorting into his can of bourbon while Lance and Pidge squint at the fired up barbeque nearby, but when Shiro wanders over he turns and stars, Shiro will always feel like the luckiest person in the world to be on the receiving end of Keith's smile.

“Hey,” Keith says readily.

“Hey, you,” Shiro says just as softly.

“Can’t believe you’re not working.”

“Pulled a few strings,” Shiro says seriously. “Barely got out of there with my life to be honest.”

“What,” Keith grins, “You, Admiral Shirogane, couldn’t ask for an afternoon off without prostrating himself on the ground and begging for it?”

Shiro really, really shouldn't be thinking of doing that to Keith

“Uh,” he coughs. “I—it wasn’t—”

Keith looks at him, amused. “You know I’m kidding, right?”

Shiro knows he's probably crimson. “Right.”

Keith sips his can, and then looks at him sideways. “Unless you’re into that.”

It startles a laugh out of Shiro because of how close it is to the truth. “Look, maybe I am, you don't know.”

Keith snickers. “No, I don’t, do I?”

And he’s still joking, but Shiro kind of wants him to know now.

“All you have to do is ask.” He hurriedly swigs his beer to stay preoccupied.

Keith looks at him curiously. “I bet you are into it,” he says. “Bet you look _real_ good on your knees.”

It’s a joke, Shiro tells himself. It’s just a joke, even if all the blood in his body is rushing south

Shiro keeps drinking frantically. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

He’s empty. He needs another beer, shit.

“Maybe I would like to know,” Keith agrees. “Should I ask you, Shiro?”

But then he laughs, and the tension between them dissolves. Shiro doesn't know if he's relieved or disappointed.

What isn’t a disappointment is the way Keith gravitates around him for the night. Hunk’s pork is to die for and they get roped into enough drinking games to make Shiro’s head spin, and all the while, Keith remains nestled against his side, never too far away.

“Truth or dare,” Lance slurs.

“I’m out,” Pidge says immediately.

“Same,” Allura says with a pointed look at him as she follows Pidge with Romelle.

“Lame,” Lance whines.

“No one ever likes to play truth or dare,” Hunk says. “Now make yourself useful and help me take these in.”

Lance groans but does as Hunk asks.

Next to Shiro, Keith tilts his head up. “What would you have picked?”

“Hm? Oh.” Shiro has never liked truth or dare. He hasn’t played it since he was seventeen. “If I had to? Truth, I guess.”

Keith’s grin is wicked. “Then do you like being on your knees, Shiro?”

Ah, so they’re back here, then. Shiro tries to quell the rising joy. “I’m not on them.”

“What if I asked you to be?”

Shiro rolls his eyes. “There’s far worse things you could ask of me, Keith. I’d do them all.”

“That’s dangerous,” Keith says lightly.

 _I’d do anything for you_ , Shiro thinks, but he doesn’t voice it. They’re just best friends at a family party trading barbs that are only sexually charged because Shiro has always had a gutter mind.

Nothing more.

“I guess it is.”

Maybe Keith’s had more alcohol than Shiro thought, or maybe he’s just always _like that_ after his time with the Blades, because he cages Shiro in with his arms and leans in close enough that Shiro forgets to breathe.

Stars, he’s pretty like this.

It’s almost unfair, Shiro thinks, how pretty Keith got. He thought it was bad enough after the abyss, with his newfound confidence and muscles and long hair, but Keith has gotten even better with time.

His hair is longer, his cheekbones sharper. His lips are full and his eyes have always been beautiful, but with the passing years the Galra violet has become more pronounced. Shiro _wants._

“Anything?” Keith smirks.

Shiro nods.

His beer is sweating in his palm and the condensation drips down his arm. Keith’s eyes follow the path of it, and then his finger does and it’s—kind of hot, actually, the way his lashes flutter and his finger traces the line of the bottle.

“Drink.”

Shiro raises his beer and swallows.

“Good.”

Keith’s eyes sparkle when Shiro is done, and then he presses his smile to the neck of the bottle. Shiro thinks that’s it, but then Keith sticks his tongue out and drags it up to the lip.

Shiro’s mouth goes dry.

He could kiss Keith like this. All he’d have to do is lower the bottle and lean in and he’d be there. And maybe Keith would kiss him back and let Shiro tangle his hand in that long hair and pull. Maybe Keith would pull his hair. Maybe he’d tell Shiro what to do, like he is now.

“The Blades showed me this game,” Keith says, lips brushing the bottle.

Shiro ignores the pang of jealousy that courses through him at the idea that someone else has had Keith like this. He doesn’t know what game they’re playing—it’s certainly not truth or dare—but he isn’t complaining yet.

“How does it go?”

“You take turns,” Keith says. “Ordering each other. But your lips have to stay on the bottle.”

“You just play this for fun?” Shiro says even as his heart stutters. “With anyone?”

“This is my first time,” Keith admits. “I just watched the others play.”

“Oh.”

It’s just the two of them outside. Keith could ask him to do anything. Shiro already knows he’ll do it, whatever it is.

“What do you want me to do?” he asks.

“Drink up,” Keith asks him, eyes going dark when Shiro obeys.

He shifts to the side as Shiro does to let the bottle rise, and so his face comes closer in the firelight and it’s all Shiro can do to not choke on the beer sliding down his throat because Keith’s mouth is _right there_ now.

Now all Shiro would have to do is tilt his head.

The bottle is empty in seconds, because Shiro is trying to distract himself and Keith told him to and there wasn’t much left anyway. Keith hasn’t stopped watching him and Shiro likes the approval he can see in Keith’s gaze. It’s molten hot, the way it burrows into his chest.

“Now what?” he asks, heart pounding.

“Your move.”

Well, Shiro could get another beer. He could laugh and tackle Keith and pretend to spar with him. “Does the ‘anything’ rule apply to me as well?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” And he curls his hand around Keith’s neck, keeps him close like that. “Keith…” he starts, having no doubt that Keith’s mouth is as soft as it looks but wanting desperately to confirm it.

“Whatever you want,” Keith reminds him.

So Shiro takes.

Shiro hasn't kissed anyone in literal years. And right now, with Keith's mouth slotted gently against his, Shiro knows that he won't kiss anyone else. Because it feels _right_ to be cradling Keith's face and be allowed to kiss him like this, while the fire paints Keith gold.

He belongs in that colour, has the surname and heart to prove it.

Shiro doesn't know where the bottle ended up but he was right; Keith's lips are soft and warm and follow the kiss, and if it's a little clumsy and overeager at first, Keith doesn't seem to mind. Shiro certainly doesn't mind, thumb running along Keith's cheekbone as he tilts his head and coaxes Keith to open his mouth.

Stars, Keith is a good kisser. His lips are full between Shiro's and he goes with the push and pull so willingly. Heat curls tight and vicious in Shiro's stomach.

“Shiro,” Keith says, muffled in the fog of Shiro's brain.

“Hm?”

“Your lips were supposed to stay on the bottle.”

Shiro hums, dares to push his tongue into Keith's mouth. “They’re kinda preoccupied, Keith.”

Keith licks back, saying, “Does this mean I win?”

God, he’s so fucking competitive.

Shiro responds by biting his lips.

It's probably a good thing that Keith hears the others returning. One second he’s panting into Shiro's mouth and the next he's nestled against his side once more. The sudden change leaves Shiro breathless and reeling, but the others are oblivious as they take their seats again.

Fucking hell.

Keith looks a little dazed too but he’s hiding it far better than Shiro, fingers touching his mouth as if to say 'did that really happen?'

Shiro can barely believe it, either.

“Did you miss us?” Pidge teases, always a brat.

“Hardly,” Keith simpers.

Shiro wishes he could leave and drag Keith with him and push him up against the side of this house and see if he can make Keith gasp like that again.

Except then Hunk brings out his signature mango pudding and Shiro can’t find it in himself to be quite as annoyed.

Later, perhaps.

Later doesn’t come soon enough. 

An hour ticks by with everyone’s smiles and fingers stickied by mango syrup, at the end of which Lance declares he can’t possibly move and Pidge bemoans the fact that she can’t eat any more.

And then Allura yawns.

That sets off Romelle, and then Keith does too.

“Tired, princess?” Shiro whispers and pokes his cheek.

“You call me princess,” Keith says lowly, “and yet you still won’t kneel for me.”

“Ask me and I will,” Shiro reminds him, and they’re really too close and intimate for the rest of their family, too charged.

Keith stares up at him intently.

Then he looks past Shiro, straight at the others. “We’re gonna head off.”

 _We are?_ Shiro thinks, but already Keith is pushing him to his feet and Shiro goes with it before he falls flat on his face.

Pidge and Allura strangle him with their hugs and then Hunk does a good job of squeezing the life out of everyone.

Romelle pinches their cheeks. “If you guys are human tomorrow, we should do brunch!”

Keith kisses her hair. “Sure, Romi. We’ll be human.”

And then he reaches out and tangles his fingers with Shiro’s. Shiro is still stuck looking down at their joined hands when he’s dragged away.

They don’t even get past the house.

Walking along the side back to their cars, Shiro figures, ‘what the fuck, why not’ and pushes Keith against the wall. Keith lets his back hit it, pulls Shiro the rest of the way, and then they’re kissing again.

Before had been cautious and exploratory, like testing the waters of each other. Before Shiro had cradled Keith’s face and felt like the world was slotting into place around them because they were finally where they were supposed to be with each other.

Now is hot and frantic, hands tugging at each other, Keith’s mile-long legs winding around Shiro’s waist. Shiro presses him into the shadows, holds him there and plants the softest of kisses to Keith’s swollen lips before following the contours of his neck with his tongue.

Keith sighs at each scrape of Shiro's teeth against his throat, buries his nose in Shiro’s hair and squeezes his thighs around Shiro's waist. They’ve never done this before and yet it's the most natural thing to return to Keith's mouth and kiss him slow and filthy.

Shiro’s hand slips down to grope Keith’s ass and he swallows the muffled sound that falls, letting Keith curl their tongues together.

“My place or yours?” Shiro murmurs, nervous but hopeful as Keith pants into his mouth, and Keith’s eyes are dark where they meet his.

“Yours.”

It’s strange, to be with someone Shiro knows and trusts wholeheartedly and charting completely new territory with them. It feels so familiar and so foreign at the same time.

Keith drives them, having taken his bike, and Shiro gets to nestle up behind him for the journey.

Like this, he gets to tuck his chin over Keith’s shoulder, laughing in his ear as Keith drives just as recklessly as usual and sends them hurtling past houses and desert, until they come to Shiro’s place.

Keith whistles. “Admiral perks, huh?”

“Admiral perks,” Shiro agrees.

The apartment is new, new enough that Shiro still hasn’t furnished it properly, but Keith doesn’t care, toeing his boots off at the door and skipping across to the balcony.

Shiro watches him, heart in his throat.

It’s different here, without the cloak of darkness or alcohol.

It’s different because here Shiro doesn’t have anything to hide behind, can’t pass this off as anything other than two best friends finally meeting in the middle. Shiro knows himself, knows why he’s here. And he doesn’t doubt Keith, either. Keith always goes after what he wants.

But it doesn’t make the moment any less daunting.

Keith looks out to the Garrison below, achingly beautiful, and then he turns, tucking his hands behind him. He leans against the glass, tilts his head up as a challenge.

“Come here,” he whispers.

Shiro _goes._

He's across the room in four strides—one, two, three—in Keith’s arms the next, mouth finding Keith’s in the dark, hands pulling Keith to him.

God, who knew he'd ever be here and have Keith like _this?_

“You’re stunning,” Shiro says, feeling far too shaky and emotional.

Keith _beams,_ a literal sun in the darkness of the room and Shiro scrunches his nose up at it, ridiculously giddy as he mouths kisses along Keith’s face.

“I used to dream about this,” Keith admits, a moan swimming between them when Shiro’s hand squeezes his ass again.

“Yeah?”

A nod, and then another spitfire kiss that steals Shiro’s higher brain function.

“Yeah. Used to sit on your couch and wonder what you’d do if I crawled into your lap and kissed you.”

“You should have,” Shiro mutters, dick straining against his slacks. “I wouldn't have said no.”

“Yes you would have,” Keith laughs, moaning again when Shiro rubs the heel of his hand over the outline of Keith’s dick. “I was young enough for it to be a problem.”

Shiro actually has to stop at the revelation, peering up at Keith. “Seriously?”

“Have you seen yourself?”

Well, _yeah._ Shiro knows his body reflects the hours of exercise he puts it through, but still.

“I never stood a chance,” Keith grins. “You used to leave your jacket with me and it smelt like you and sometimes I’d get carried away.”

Shiro’s ears burn. “Carried away?”

What’s going through his head right now is definitely nothing short of Keith wrapped up in Shiro’s jacket and holding it to his nose as he jerks off.

“Do you want me to spell it out for you?” Keith says.

‘No,” Shiro shakes his head. “I want you to show me.”

It really does something to him, Shiro thinks, to see Keith’s teeth sink into his bottom lip as he smiles and lets his fingers undo the top button of his jeans.

It does something else to look as Keith pushes his jeans down and curls his fingers around his dick, to see it flushed and dripping with precome, to watch as Keith strokes languidly along the length and sighs.

He didn’t even question it, just shows Shiro obediently, and Shiro’s breath shudders out of him.

“Jesus,” he curses.

Keith kisses him, crowded against the glass by Shiro and still holding all the reins of power anyway. “On your knees.”

Shiro doesn't need to be told twice.

He’s kneeling before Keith in the next instant, looking up through his lashes, and from there it’s the simplest thing for Keith to push his cock between Shiro's lips.

Shiro opens wider for it, untouched and panting with anticipation anyway. He wants whatever Keith will give him

Keith gasps as he slides home, because it's been years and yet Shiro still remembers how to relax his throat.

“Shit,” he mumbles, another shocked gasp coming from him when Shiro lets him push and push until Shiro’s nose is pressed into sweaty curls. “Holy fuck, Shiro.”

 _Breathe,_ Shiro tells himself, and then he draws up and goes straight back down.

Keith’s groan is everything.

“Oh my god,” Keith whimpers, and Shiro tucks away the sound triumphantly.

He’s _just_ as competitive as Keith.

Hands twitch in Shiro’s hair and pull when Shiro buries Keith’s dick in his throat and swallows around it. It’s impossible to breathe like this but it doesn’t matter.

What _does_ matter is the tremble of Keith's thighs, and Shiro slides his hands up to support him as he bobs his head, flattens his tongue on the underside and drags his lips. It’s sloppy and noisy and Shiro loses himself to it, to the moans and whimpers Keith makes.

“Fuck,” Keith hisses, “fuck this is so much better than I dreamt,” and then they’re both laughing at that, Shiro stroking Keith’s dick as he smiles up at him.

Truly, there’s never been a better sight to look upon, than Keith panting against the glass of Shiro’s apartment.

“I love you,” he says softly.

 _“Shiro,”_ Keith snorts, and he doesn’t need to say it but he’s right, it’s probably not the greatest time to say it, regardless of how much Shiro feels like bursting right now.

So he says, “It’s true,” and goes down on him again.

Keith isn’t quiet this time; he fists a hand in Shiro’s hair and pushes up into his mouth, right down Shiro’s throat, reckless enough to make Shiro nearly gag, and Shiro groans at the change.

“Don't stop,” Keith demands softly.

Shiro shakes his head, inhales shakily.

Keith thrusts again and when Shiro meets him this time, Keith’s whine makes all the blood in Shiro’s body turn hot. His knees are aching and he’s painfully hard in his slacks and drooling around Keith’s dick and he never wants it to stop, wants to stay here and just be used.

“Stay like that,” Keith whispers, cradling Shiro’s head gently as he fucks into his mouth. “Just like that.”

Shiro nods, both in agreement and to follow the slide of Keith’s dick down his throat, more spit leaking out the sides as precome bursts onto his tongue.

“Fuck, Shiro,” Keith keeps babbling as Shiro keeps moving, guided by Keith’s hands and his own desire to have Keith come down his throat.

He doesn’t have to wait much longer.

Keith’s body is shaking under Shiro’s touch and his thrusts are becoming less controlled with each sweep of Shiro’s tongue over his cockhead.

“Fuck—” Keith says, garbled and rushed, and if Shiro thought he was being used before, then it’s nothing compared to the way that Keith then pulls his hair and _takes._

He holds Shiro’s hair tight enough to hurt and fucks his mouth recklessly, and Shiro’s eyes roll back at how roughly Keith uses him, because finally, finally—

The noise that Keith makes is the best sound Shiro’s ever heard.

It’s loud and drawn out and makes Shiro’s entire body sing.

“Fuck, you just…” Keith says, and then he rears back and slams his hips forward and Shiro barely has time to suck in a breath through his nose before Keith is coming.

Shiro closes his eyes, burning up at the sensation. He feels every pulse of Keith’s cock as it throbs on his tongue, feels it jolt in his mouth when he winds his tongue lazily around the shaft, hand coming up to hold the base as he draws back and lets Keith's cockhead sit on his bottom lip.

Flushed and panting, Keith presses his thumb to the corner of Shiro's mouth. “Show me.”

Shiro feels his body grow even hotter but he does as he’s told, opening his mouth slowly. Keith dips his thumb in, pushes on his tongue, smears Shiro’s chin with some of the come sitting there.

Then he closes Shiro’s mouth again.

_“Swallow.”_

Really, does he think Shiro won't?

Shiro’s legs feel even shakier than Keith's when he eventually rises to his feet. Keith is still panting and Shiro kisses him gently, unable to keep from pressing his dick against Keith’s hip in an effort to relieve some of the pressure.

Keith hums.

His fingers find the button of Shiro’s slacks, draw the zipper down and reach into his boxer briefs.

Shiro groans, oversensitive and desperate in Keith's hands, hips bucking forward at the first touch. “Shit, baby.”

“I like that,” Keith says. “Say it again.”

“Baby,” Shiro replies.

Keith nuzzles his nose and then generously licks his palm, slides it over Shiro’s dick. Sparks shoot up Shiro’s spine and he closes his eyes, all too happy to follow as Keith directs him.

“Here,” Keith says, pushing Shiro’s dick between his thighs.

“Oh,” Shiro says stupidly, brain going blank at the pressure.

“Just do what you want,” Keith urges. “Whatever you want.”

What Shiro really wants is to tangle in his bedsheets with Keith but he’s too impatient, and besides, Keith’s thighs are a wonderful alternative.

They’re slick and tight and hot and Shiro thrusts mindlessly, burying his face in Keith's neck as he gropes his ass. He fucks Keith like that against the glass door, whimpers into sweat-damp skin, and it’s perfect, there’s nothing better than Keith letting Shiro use him like this.

When Shiro comes, it feels like shattering apart.

There’s laughter, then, soft and secret. There are kisses too, gentle ones to swollen spit-slick mouths. Keith brushes their noses together and Shiro cradles him close, inexplicably feeling like crying because he just had sex with his best friend and it was perfect.

“I love you,” he says. “So much.”

“I love you too,” Keith says. “In case that wasn't abundantly clear.”

Shiro tucks his head further into Keith’s neck. “It’s clear.”

When the come and sweat drying on their skin becomes gross, Shiro tugs Keith to his shower. Maybe it’s too soon, too rushed, but they’ve already pulled down the main wall between them, so what’s one more?

They’ve seen the best and worst sides of each other.

Besides, Keith naked in Shiro’s shower and pressed against him is a lovely thing. So too, is him wearing Shiro’s clothes, curled in bed with him.

“I guess now we know,” Keith says, tracing patterns on Shiro’s chest.

“Know what?”

“How good you look on your knees.”

_“Keith.”_

Keith grins. “Next time, I might even make you beg.”

Shiro groans even as his body flushes hot and cold. “Anything you want, Keith.”

**Author's Note:**

> as always, come and bug me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/sepiacigarettes)!


End file.
